One Bride for Five Brothers

by Jess Bentley

  “Third, we have a private VIP room set up for after the concert. There will be more guests in that room, and they will be screened by security on a case-by-case basis.”

  “Oh, that's good. So I'm not totally on lockdown?” he says, winking. “Seriously, who's Dahlia? She looks familiar. Did I fuck her?”

  My stomach clenches. This man does not know how close he is to being dropped over that railing.

  “She's… additional security. You need it.”

  “Seriously, she looks familiar… Hm. Whatever. Anyway, glad to see you've stepped up to the plate, August. It's going to be a good show!”

  The valet do a decent job of rerouting traffic around us as we enter the large marble entrance. The MGM security arrives with key cards and another on-site professional to meet. They do a nice job of coordinating, I have to admit. I'm not sure I would have been able to arrange this all on such short notice without it.

  “Kirkman!” comes a high, shrill voice.

  “Melanie!” he yells back. Several people in the atrium swivel toward us, intrigued. I nonchalantly insert myself between them and Kirkman, hoping to shield him from as much attention as possible.

  Melanie quirks an eyebrow at me, aware of what I'm doing. Once again, my goals and her goals are at cross purposes. If she could have had seventy women here throwing their panties at him when he arrived, she would have.

  “August, good to see you,” she smirks, rolling her eyes.

  “Here's your key card,” I say, handing it to her. To my right, I see Dahlia and Stan with the two young women, waiting for an elevator. Dahlia's arms are crossed and she sweeps the room with her eyes, calmly assessing the situation, just like I would.

  I walk up to her, nodding in a businesslike way. “Dahlia, this is Melanie. And of course you remember Kirkman.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Melanie says, her expression confused.

  Dahlia smiles in a friendly but cagey way, concealing her feelings behind a blank wall of pleasantness.

  “I knew I recognized you!” Kirkman smirks. “I just knew it!”

  As the elevator door slides open, I take Dahlia by the elbow and hold her back, allowing the rest of the group to board without us.

  “Wait, you're not coming?” Kirkman asks, holding the door open with his palm.

  I raise a hand to wave them off. “No, you go on ahead. Stan’s got you, and Melanie can get you set up in the room. I'll see you after the show.”

  I hold Dahlia's elbow until the elevator doors close and instantly she slumps against me. It's not a lot, but it's just enough.

  “Well, that was unexpected!” she stage whispers.

  “You did exceptionally well,” I smile. “I knew you would.”

  She shakes her head. “I don't understand! You just threw me in there with those girls… and then Kirkman… what's going on?”

  Glancing up at the LED display, I see that the elevator is already halfway to the penthouse. I go ahead and press the call button, knowing it will complete the trip before coming back for us.

  “Well, Stan needed an extra set of eyes when he was escorting those ladies. You just happen to be here… so I assumed you'd be the right choice. You have a problem with that?”

  She sniffs, straightening. “Course I don't have a problem with that.”

  “And, naturally, I wanted to see how you'd react under pressure.”

  She glances at me sidelong. “And how did I react? Did I pass your little test?”

  “Flying colors,” I shrug. “Exactly what I expected of you.”

  “Well, good,” she huffs. “But not exactly what I was expecting after your whole honesty speech, August. Can we keep the surprises and ambushes to a minimum, please?”

  Leaning over, I bury my lips in her hair and inhale the sweet, vanilla scent of her. “Fair enough.”

  Relaxing, she looks over my shoulder toward the casino floor. The jangle of slot machines and crowd noises float on the air, muted but still significant.

  “You know, I've never been to a casino before. It looks like fun.”

  “Really?” I ask her. “You never came here? Not even for your twenty-first birthday with Bunny or anything?”

  She smiles, nudging me gently with her elbow. “No, never. Bunny asked me, but I wasn't sure I'd like it. But now that I'm here, it is kind of exciting. Sort of like a Disneyland feeling.”

  “Why don’t you call her?” I suggest.

  The elevator doors ding and then slide open again. She looks up at me, surprised, as we enter.

  “Call her? Seriously?”

  “Sure, why not. I bet she will love the VIP experience. Kirkman does throw a helluva party.”

  I thumbed the penthouse button and turn toward her. Dahlia inhales, a small smile playing across her full lips. I take a half step toward her and she backs up against the mirrored wall of the elevator car. Smoothly I reach down and pick her up, wrapping her thighs around my waist. She hooks her ankles behind my hips, grinding against me immediately, bringing me to sudden, dizzying arousal.

  “Slow down,” she breathes, panting. “I can’t keep up.”

  “Try harder,” I growl in response, pulsing my hips against her panties. “You can do it. You have to.”

  When the door slides open, I walk out with her legs still wrapped around my waist, pulling the access card from my back pocket. The door to my left opens with a click and I walk her inside, kissing her deeply, so hungry for her that I think I could do this all night.

  The lights go on in the suite automatically, illuminating the tasteful, elegant furnishings. Everything is cream on cream with a light blue accents and pewter finishes. I barely register them as I carry her into the bedroom, but then I force myself to slow down. Angling forward, I lay her on the bed and stand back. She blinks at me shyly, raising her hands to partially cover her face and push her hair back where it got tousled over her bright blue eyes. Reflexively, she draws her knees up and pulls them together.

  “No, stop,” I tell her, holding her knees apart. “I want to look at you.”

  Though I feel the resistance in her muscles, she tries to hold still. I step back, just far enough that I can see everything. Her smooth calves, her dimpled knees, the long, curving line of her thighs as they disappear into her skirt. The way her belly trembles when she breathes. The pink blush of her palms.

  Still, I need more. I want to see more. I want to see everything. I reach forward and slide her skirt over her hips, baring her pretty panties, some kind of fabric with needlework decoration and tiny holes. I'm sure there's a word for that. I don't know what it is. She's shivers lightly but lets me expose her.

  This is real, finally. Not a fantasy via text. Not some stranger, but real flesh and blood, a real connection. I'm so happy to be here with her, finally realizing the attraction that's already been there for so long.

  This feels right, I have to admit to myself. And I can do better than I've done before. Things just didn't fit before, not the way that Dahlia does. I didn’t feel this kind of satisfaction just be in Trina's presence. Not like this, not like watching Dahlia lay across the bed with her legs open, her body arching and writhing in front of me, her hips pulsing because she is so eager for me to make her mine.

  That's exactly what I need to do.

  Chapter 42

  Dahlia

  It's almost unbearable, lying here while he stares at me. I want to curl into a ball, to jam my knees together, to roll over. I want to pull the blankets over me and hide myself.

  But he's told me he wants to look at me, and I want to do whatever he wants. I force myself to relax, to let my legs fall open when he pushes on my knees. I try to remember that I've shown him this before, in fact. I sent him pictures.

  Suddenly I sit up.

  “August, I need to tell you something… something else.”

  He takes a deep breath, narrowing his eyes slightly. His fingers trail down my calf and then hang loose next to his thigh.

  “Dahlia, can it w
ait?” he asks. My eyes travel across his body noting the enormous bulge in his pants. My mouth begins to water, but I know what I have to do.

  I have to do the right thing.

  I draw my heels under me so that I sit, pretzel style.

  “I heard what you said about honesty earlier. And I want to say this now, before we go… too far.”

  “Too far?” he quirks an eyebrow at me. “Just how much further can we possibly go?”

  I bite the inside of my cheek to keep from grinning.

  “I need to tell you…” I start again. “This feels… familiar. In fact, very familiar.”

  He shakes his head, not understanding. “Familiar? What does that mean?”

  I rock back and forth uncomfortably, looking for the right words. “You… wanting to look at me. Wanting to see me.”

  His eyebrows knit together, a crease furrowing the middle of his forehead.

  “You have… said those words to me before.”

  I see his hands fall into fists, then relax slightly as though he just reminded himself not to tense up.

  “Dahlia, I've never said those words to you before.”

  I nod, a tight smile on my lips. “Actually, you have,” I insist gently. “Only… I don't know if you knew it was me.”

  I'm afraid to say more, but I don't think he understands yet. My blood is racing in my veins, and I feel heat slashing through me. I hope he figures it out. I hope he doesn't make me explain every single bit of it.

  “Tell me slowly,” he growls. His jaw clenches and the muscle there is as thick as a walnut. “Tell me exactly what you are talking about.”

  “It was a dream,” I whisper hoarsely. I slide to the edge of the bed and stand, so nervous I feel like I'm going to faint. My knees threaten to buckle underneath me as I take a single step toward him.

  Carefully, I reach out, fingers outstretched, my palm facing him. He doesn't flinch as I place my fingers just under his chin, then slowly let them fall along the skin of his thick neck to the space between his collarbones.

  “I want to touch you,” I whisper. “I want to undress you. I want to feel your pulse.”

  His adam's apple bobs as he swallows, hard. I feel his breath quicken under my palm.

  “I'm scared to talk too,” I confess. “Every day, I was terrified to say those things to you… but then I couldn't stop. I had to tell you.”

  He shakes his head tightly. I can almost hear him grinding his teeth. “Is this some kind of game?” he growls.

  “It’s not a game!” I insist. I hear the desperation of my voice. “Every word… every image… it’s all completely true. All the things I could never say to you in real life… I've never said to anybody…”

  He swallows again, and his eyes dart back and forth as he searches my eyes, as though trying to read me like a book. I don't hold anything back, I don't try to hide at all. I want him to see me plainly, to know this is really me, with nothing hidden.

  “But why?”

  “At first, I thought you might help me meet Kirkman. But as soon as we started to talk… I got carried away. I felt like I could tell you anything.”

  He nods. His eyes are so hard and intense, I'm not sure if he's furious with me or what.

  “Yes… I suppose I felt that way too,” he admits.

  I dare to take another half step forward, close enough I feel the heat of him, the disturbance of the air as his chest rises and falls. With my eyes locked on his I let my fingers fumble at the buttons, unbuttoning his shirt little by little.

  “I never thought I could do that sort of thing,” I whisper. “I never thought I could be so honest, even while I wasn't telling you who I was. In a funny way, it meant that I could be even more honest with you.”

  August leans forward, his lips just millimeters from mine. My body aches to be closer to him, but I need to be sure.

  “Tell me what you're thinking,” I ask. “I need to know.”

  “Is there more?” he asks, his eyes narrowed.

  “What do you mean?”

  “You have more to confess?”

  I press my lips together, shaking my head. “I don't have more to confess. Do you?”

  He tips his head to the side. “What do you mean?”

  I smile.

  “What were you doing in my room?”

  “Your room —” he sucks his breath in suddenly, remembering. “Oh, I'm sorry. What an intrusion. I didn't know… I didn't think about —”

  I put my fingers against his lips, quieting him. He bites back whatever he was going to say.

  “No… don’t be sorry. I'm not mad. I'm just curious, I suppose? It made me feel… I don't even know what.”

  “It did?” he raises his eyebrows.

  I take a deep breath. The feeling is come back through me, sloshing through my belly like an overfilled wineglass.

  “Do that for me,” I tell him. “Tell me with that was like. Show me.”

  “I needed to send you a picture,” he begins, slowly. I hear him unbutton his pants but I don't look down. In a moment, I hear the soft whoosh as the fabric slides off his hips.

  “You sent me a picture. Your panties. So exciting. Then you asked me to send you a picture.”

  “In my room?”

  He winces. “Dahlia… I never meant to —”

  “Stop,” I tell him. “I don’t want an apology. I want to hear about how you got hard. Tell me that.”

  He takes another deep breath. “Your room is so… like you. Pretty. Neat and tidy. Organized. You don't have too much stuff; you have exactly the right amount of stuff. You smell… so good…”

  My eyes drift down, attracted by the movement of his hand. His fingers are wrapped around his shaft. The meat is heavy in is palm, not quite hard, bouncing slightly as he works at it.

  “That scent,” he continues. “At first I thought it was perfume, but now I think it's just you. You smell sweet. Like candy. Perfume.”

  “I don’t wear perfume,” I remark.

  He smiles. He traps his lower lip between his teeth and bites gently. “Even better.”

  I glance down. His hand moves a little faster, stroking closer to the end. The veins bulge, twisting over the velvety surface.

  “Can taste you now?” I ask him.

  “Oh God, Dahlia, yes,” he groans.

  He arches his back, jerking his cock as I kneel in front of him, sliding my hands behind his knees. He guides his cock toward my mouth and I let it slip across my tongue, eagerly tasting the salty drop at the tip. It's so thick, it fills my mouth, almost cutting off my breath.

  But I'm so hungry for it. I need it against the back of my throat, and I choke down more and more of it, wanting to take it all, wanting to feel my lips around the very end of him.

  With his hand on the back of my head, he slides in and out of my mouth deftly, pumping his hips. The muscles across his stomach and thighs clench and knot as he strokes over and over again, filling me to choking. I feel his fingers grip my head as he thrusts one last time, burying himself deep in my throat, almost hurting me as his seed explodes into me, salty, hot, abundant.

  I drink it down, eager for every drop. Slowly he crumples to his knees and drapes his arms over my shoulders, covering my face in kisses, moaning and growling and groaning all at the same time.

  Together we slide to the floor and lay there, looking up at the ceiling, both beyond words. Beyond pixels on a screen, beyond pictures. It feels so real, it's overwhelming.

  Chapter 43

  August

  Even though I realize Dahlia has just confessed to lying to me twice in one day, I don't think I can find it in me to be angry about it.

  As I stand under the luxurious multiple jets of the shower in our hotel room, I wait for the chamber to fill up with steam and fill my lungs over and over again with the fragrant perfume. The water jets are brutal, pounding at my shoulders and lower back mercilessly. I just in there and take it, feeling whole, feeling good.

  Really good
.

  With any other woman, I might be furious. I might even walk right out the door. But somehow, her confessions only make me trust her more instead of less. She probably didn't even have to tell me. But she has enough integrity and enough trust in me that she did.

  That's a very good girl.

  And I can't help thinking about those text messages. I would never have guessed two weeks ago that she would be someone to send me a picture of her fingers in her panties. That she would've said all of those deliciously sexy things. That she would have been so compliant, so eager, so wanting. She set off a fire inside me, something I didn't even know I still had.

  That's why Trina never worked. That's why I didn't particularly care when she left. She didn't set me on fire. She's a perfectly nice, perfectly acceptable woman, but we couldn't spark together like this.

  Instead, Dahlia reaches deep into me, invigorates me, brings me back to life. She makes me remember why I'm a man. She makes remember that I want things, I want them deeply and furiously and passionately.

  And knowing that the fantasy lover and the real lover are the same person makes it even better. She's layered and complicated.

  And I'm determined to make her mine.

  But for now, I do still have work to do. I twist the shower nozzles off and reach for a fluffy towel to dry myself, mentally listing the steps for the rest of the night. The security here at the MGM is quite good, with many personnel tunnels for Kirkman to use so that he will not have to walk directly through the casino to get to the venue. In fact, he would never have to see another person in public for the rest of the time that we are here.

  Of course, I won't be so lucky.

  Yet it's good to know that at least some of my security concerns are already handled. We'll take the private penthouse elevator down to the sub-basement, then walk through the employees only pedway to the green room where he can prepare for his show. He's given this performance a dozen times already and I've reviewed the videos. It's not terribly complicated. A light show, some pre-recorded backing tracks, three dancers who arrive at scheduled intervals, and a handful of musicians. Everyone's been thoroughly vetted, so they are not a concern.